


You'll Be Mine And I'll Be Yours.

by hemakeshimstrongx



Category: Larry Stylinson - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crying, Emotions, Eventual Sex, Falling In Love, First Love, Flirting, Home, Kissing, Louis calls harry kid like 3 times, Louis' internal struggle, M/M, Singing, The X Factor, Zayn is Louis' shoulder to lean on, band formation, i think it's cute, one direction - Freeform, they fuck, this is description heavy for a long time, this might actually be boring sorry, x factor fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 18:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hemakeshimstrongx/pseuds/hemakeshimstrongx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life runs its course and leads Louis to Harry. Harry makes Louis' heart beat faster than it should and makes his stomach do flips. Louis isn't quite sure how to share this bit of information. It proves to be more of an issue than it actually should.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll Be Mine And I'll Be Yours.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been working on this for a while now, and i figured why not post it now while everyone's freaking out about hendall. comfort is found in the form of fanfiction, people.

Louis’ mother always used to tell him that life will take its course. Whenever Louis complained about anything, Jay would set him straight again by saying something like, “this is how it's supposed to be, Louis. Life takes its course, you cannot change it” and Louis would go about his life. Life would take its course. The course took Louis to The X Factor. The course also made Louis bump into a boy named Harry Styles. They met in the bathroom, Harry a clumsy, cute kid with a head full of curls. (Louis may or may not have wanted to bend him over the sink right there, but no one has to know). 

 

“Mum, I just met this kid in the bathroom,” Louis says once he's back with his family. 

 

“You shouldn't be fraternizing with your enemy.” 

 

“He's not an enemy. I’m pretty sure he's going to win the whole thing. And he was so nervous, so I told him that, and even made him give me a signature and got a picture with him…” Louis shows Jay the picture of this boy. Harry. Harry with the bright green eyes and curly hair and pink lips and slow voice. 

 

/ / 

 

Life has taken its course yet again when Louis and Harry end up in the same goddamn band. They're in a boyband together with three other guys - Liam, Niall and Zayn. Louis doesn't like Liam. He's too serious. They argue on too many things. Niall is loud, but he's funny. Louis doesn't hate him as much as Liam. Zayn is quiet. Louis likes him. They're complete opposites in the volume department, but get along nicely everywhere else. 

 

Then there's Harry. God, Harry. He and Louis have become a dynamic duo after just a few rehearsals as a band. They have the same music taste, the same sense of humor. They both relate to the struggle of having divorced and remarried parents, the struggle of having siblings (they've determined that Louis has it worse, four sisters is a lot more unbearable than just one). One issue, Louis hasn't told Harry he’s gay. He's just afraid that Harry knowing this crucial bit of information might change the way Harry sees him, and they won't be able to be friends anymore. 

 

“Harry,” Zayn says, climbing up to get on Louis’ bunk (top bunk, right above harry’s). They're the only two in the room, Niall, Harry and Liam all downstairs with the others. 

 

“I know we hang out a lot, Harry and I, but you've got the wrong one mate. Sorry.” Louis says, not looking up from the book he's reading.  _ Looking for Alaska  _ by John Green. Harry recommended it. 

 

“I know you're not Harry. I want to talk  _ about  _ Harry.” 

 

“Got a crush on him or summat?” Louis asks teasingly, putting the book down and sitting up straight. 

 

“No,” Zayn rolls his eyes and opens the bag of crisps he brought up. 

 

“Don't get crumbs all over my bed,” Louis warns. “What about him, then?” 

 

“I don't like him. But you do.” Zayn knows Louis is gay. Louis told him. Well, Zayn kind of knew. That's the thing about Zayn. You spend enough time around him, and he picks up on things. So when Louis brought it up that he was gay, Zayn was hardly fazed. 

 

Louis doesn't say anything, so Zayn continues. “Anyone with eyes can see it. You like Harry.”

 

“I met him before, you know? Before we even auditioned. In the bathroom.” 

 

Zayn quirks an eyebrow. “Really?” 

 

Louis hums, nodding. “Met him in the toilets. He was so nervous. Got his signature and a picture.” 

 

“You’d just met him and he’d already had you whipped,” Zayn laughs. “He's still got you whipped now. You like him. A lot.”

 

“Harry doesn't like boys,” Louis whines, reaching and taking a crisp from the bag. 

 

“Well, I don't know about Harry and  _ boys _ . But Harry likes Louis.” Zayn replies slowly, studying Louis’ face carefully. 

 

If Louis’ breath gets caught in his throat and his heart rate picks up about a thousand beats per minute, no one has to know. “Really?” 

 

“We've known each other for over a month now, haven't we? We’ve spent every waking second together. Harry isn't the way he is with you with anyone else here. A lot of things add up to be Harry liking Louis.” 

 

Louis bites his lip. “Okay.” 

 

“Okay? That's it?” 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

/ / 

 

Life continues taking its course. Harry and Louis grow even closer as they progress on The X Factor, no matter how hard Louis tries to stop it. They're lying outside the bungalow in the grass, staring up at the stars. 

 

“Louis,” Harry says suddenly, looking over. Louis hums, staring back. Harry doesn't say anything for a moment. Louis takes the silent, no speaking to stare into Harry’s green eyes. If all he saw on the boy was Harry’s eyes, Louis probably would fall in love. No, he’d definitely fall in love. Love, love, love, Louis could love Harry— “I’m glad you're my friend.” 

 

In movies when someone says something completely unexpected they make that sound that sounds like a record being forced to a stop, that screechy noise. That's what Louis hears when Harry says that sentence. He's been friend zoned. Louis has literally been friend zoned by who he's sure is the love of his life. Great. “Me too,” he says still, smiling widely. 

 

When Louis calls his mother early the next morning to tell her what happened, she says “life is taking its course, Lou. There's nothing you can do about it, babes, sorry.” 

 

Louis knows she's right. And he hates being wrong. 

 

/ / 

 

Harry is adorable. Harry is so fucking cute all the fucking time. Louis isn't sure Harry knows he's doing it. The five boys of one direction are sat in their room, winding down from the day they had (rehearsals, rehearsals and more rehearsals). “But now there's only love in the dark, nothing I can say, a total eclipse of the heart!” Harry’s singing loudly, too loudly, other people are probably trying to sleep. Like Liam. He's laying in his bunk with the covers pulled up over his head, clearly trying to block out the noise Harry is making. Liam deserves it though, so. 

 

“Louis, sing with me!” Harry exclaims. “Turnaround, bright eyes, every now and then I fall apart.” 

 

“I refuse to indulge on such childish activities, we should be getting to bed—” Louis attempts to tell Harry to knock it off, but Harry just starts singing even louder. 

 

“And I need you now tonight, and I need you more than ever,” he's outright shouting now, making Liam groan and Niall join in. Louis isn't looking at him, but he can feel Zayn looking at him. Smirking, probably. A knowing, shit-eating grin that Louis hates him for. Louis Tomlinson hates Zayn Malik. 

 

“You’re not singing!” Harry hauls himself up on Louis’ bed.

 

Louis should tell him to knock it off. Harry would listen to Louis, Harry would stop any and everything for Louis in the same way Louis would do any and everything for Harry. Louis is the only one out of the five people in this room who holds the power to get Harry to shut the fuck up and go to bed. Say the word, Harry would probably stop. Except. Harry’s being really fucking cute. As Louis has noticed, this is a problem. This is a major, major problem. Harry’s being very cute and he’s making Louis grin stupidly wide and making his heart flutter like a butterfly wanting to be freed from a cage and his stomach is doing flips like a gymnast. Louis doesn’t want it to stop. So, he just joins in the singing, much to Liam’s annoyance. 

 

Finally, Zayn is the one to tell Harry to shut the hell up. They have another full day of rehearsals tomorrow and need their rest. The lights go out, and that’s it. The room is silent. Between the faint grin on his face, the butterfly and the gymnast, Louis has a very tough time going to sleep. 

 

/ / 

 

“Do you really think we’re gonna get further?” Harry asks. looking over at Louis. They’re sat in the grass again, away from everybody else. “Like, do you think we could win?” 

 

Louis shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno, Haz.” 

 

“Even if we don’t, I hope that you and I can stay friends.” 

 

There’s a dull ache in Louis’ heart at the word  _ friends,  _ but he doesn’t let Harry see his disappointment. “Of course we will,” he says. “Win or not win, I think we’ll all stay really good friends.” 

 

Harry hums. “My mum asked about you while I was on the phone with her the other day.” 

 

Louis sucks in a breath so fast he nearly starts choking. Harry’s  _ mother  _ asked about him. If Louis isn’t in with Harry yet, he’s in with Anne, which is always a must. “She did? What’d she ask?” 

 

“Asked how you were. And if we were good friends. I told her you were well, and yes, we’re good friends. And it’s not a lie. I like spending time with you, Lou. Everything would be extremely unbearable and lonely if I didn’t have you here to brighten things up, so.” 

 

Oh God, oh God. Louis thinks back to what Zayn said.  _ I don’t know about Harry and boys. But Harry likes Louis.  _ Shit, Louis is getting too far ahead of himself. Friends make each other happy all the time. Doesn’t mean they’re into each other. The pair let the conversation drop there. Louis lets it drop because he doesn’t want it to go any further, but Harry probably just thought that was a good place to end it. That’s the difference between the two of them. Louis stops when he’s scared, Harry stops because he doesn’t realize he can keep going. 

 

/ / 

 

It’s comfy and soft and it feels like Louis is getting a massage on his back. Except, that’s not a massage. That’s an insistent prodding at his back through the mattress that feels nowhere near as pleasant as a massage. Harry. “Knock it off,” he says sleepily, swinging an arm over the edge of the bunk as if that’s going to stop Harry from bothering him. “It’s arse-in-the-morning, leave me alone.”

 

“One. In the morning,” Harry whispers back. “I can’t sleep.” There’s silence, and then Louis certainly doesn’t expect Harry’s next question. “Can I come up there with you?” 

 

But, Louis isn’t one to say no to Harry, no matter how off-guard he is by the question. “Yeah. Get up here, loser.” 

 

Harry is up on the bed in seconds, crawling and curing behind Louis. They’re chest to back, and Louis starts to fall back asleep. Except Harry is still fucking moving around and Louis is about ready to shove him clean off the bed. “What is your problem, Styles?” 

 

“Can’t sleep.” 

 

Louis sighs, rolling over so he’s facing Harry. “Roll over.” he demands. Harry goes to protest, but Louis cuts him off. “Roll over, please. Now.” Harry does. Louis moves in closer and wraps arms around him, burying his face in the younger boy’s neck. “Now go to sleep.” 

 

The next morning, Louis wakes up alone in his bed. But the traces of Harry are still on his clothes and his skin and his pillow - the scent of Harry’s shampoo, some kind of fruity mixture. So last night definitely wasn’t a dream. He slept in the same bed as Harry Styles. Louis’ heart starts to flutter again, that same butterfly in the same cage, and Louis concludes that this is the biggest school-girl type crush anyone has ever had. Ever. 

 

Downstairs, it's loud as breakfast is being served. Harry’s sitting at the far end of the table, an open seat next to him. He spots Louis and motions to that seat, an excited look on his face. Louis is sure he's crushed Harry's poor, young heart when he sits beside Zayn instead. Zayn quirks an eyebrow but hands Louis a plate. “You alright?” he asks. 

 

Louis nods, taking a few pancakes. “Fine. Why?” 

 

“H has been saving you that seat all morning. Now he looks like someone murdered his puppy.” 

 

Louis shrugs. “I dunno what his problem is. I just sat here.” 

 

“We’ll talk later, then.” 

 

Later comes when Zayn, Niall and Louis are the only three people lingering at the table. Louis tries to argue that he doesn't want to talk about it with Niall sitting in, but Zayn argues right back, saying it doesn't matter. 

 

“The kid was destroyed all throughout breakfast, Lou,” Zayn says, and Niall nods in agreement. “He's probably crying in the shower right now. What happened?” 

 

“Or maybe he's jacking off like every other sixteen year old kid, like every other guy in this house.” 

 

“Louis. What happened?” 

 

“Nothing happened.” Louis pouts, pulling his knees to his chest. 

 

“Did you fuck?” Zayn gasps. “Oh my god, you fucked him!” 

 

Louis  _ wishes  _ that's what happened. “No, we didn't fuck.” 

 

Niall frowns. “Did you kiss?” 

 

“No.” 

 

“That's no fun,” he frowns even deeper. “What's the issue, then?” 

 

“I don't fucking  _ know.”  _ Louis says angrily, finally standing up and stomping away from the table. He probably hasn't thrown a tantrum since he was five. Okay, maybe ten. This isn't really a tantrum, per say, it's just a good old fashioned stomp-off. And it's not at all childish. 

 

There’s not  very many places one can go for privacy in this house. There’s a person or a band around every corner. Louis goes to the only place he can think of is their room, in his bed underneath the covers. No one else is in the room, so Louis slams the door and climbs up into his bed. He very much does not appreciate being interrogated by Niall and  Zayn about his feelings for a certain curly headed lad that Louis just can’t stop thinking about. His curls and his smell and his eyes and his lips, his  voice and his laugh and the way he tells his jokes. Fuck, Louis really can’t stop thinking about Harry. Maybe he should talk about it with somebody. No, that’s stupid. Louis doesn’t need to sort his feelings out like that. He doesn’t have to talk with Niall and Zayn like they’re therapists. Louis is perfectly capable of sorting this out. 

 

He can figure out why all of a sudden a gymnast is doing a complex routine in his stomach whenever Harry laughs. He can figure out why it feels like there’s a million butterflies caged in his heart when they’re all watching a movie and Harry rests his head on Louis’ shoulder. Louis can figure out the reason why last night when Harry was in his arms, that immediately surpassed every single other feeling Louis has ever felt to become the best feeling in the whole world. He can figure out why Zayn gives him that look whenever Harry does something pertaining to Louis. He can find the meaning behind the dull ache in his cheeks when he’s smiling too widely at something too stupid that Harry’s done. Louis can sort all of these things out. On his own. He doesn’t need every damn X Factor contestant to know or help. 

 

Louis is so caught up in his thoughts underneath the sheets that he doesn’t hear the door open and close, or hear someone come in the room and start moving things around, humming a song. “But in the moonlight, you shine just like a beacon on the bay,” Louis can finally, finally hear the voice singing. And, shit, it’s Harry, singing his solo in this week’s song. Harry cuts off his beautiful singing to speak. 

 

“Why the fuck is Louis’ stuff on my bed?” is what he says. What? What did Louis leave on Harry’s bed? Louis is hit by the thing shortly after Harry questions it. It’s a book.  _ Looking For Alaska,  _ probably. There’s not many other books it could be, so. The book lands right on Louis’ ass, which hurts more than it should. How hard does Harry have to throw, Jesus. Louis lets out a sound, which makes Harry gasp. 

 

“Louis?” he questions. 

 

Well, who else would it be? Louis rolls his eyes and pokes his head out from under the duvet. “Why’re you throwing books around so hard, kid?” he questions, peering down at Harry. And oh, Harry’s not wearing a shirt. This is okay. Louis is okay. There’s certainly not a billion butterflies in his heart and the entire Olympic gymnastic team in his stomach. It’s fine. 

 

“It was on my bed,” Harry says simply, reaching for a shirt. It’s the shirt closest to him, hanging on the edge of the bed. It’s Louis’ shirt. Fuck. “I didn’t know you were up there. If I knew you were up there, I wouldn’t have thrown it so hard.” 

 

“Jeez, maybe you should go for baseball or summat. Forget the singing, you’ve got an arm.” 

 

“Are you okay?” Harry blurts, pulling the shirt on over his head. The butterflies and gymnasts are still there. That doesn’t change. 

 

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” 

 

“You seem mad at me,” Harry shrugs. Louis sits up. “At breakfast you didn’t even say hi to me or anything.” 

 

“I don’t want it to seem like I’m mad at you,” Louis whispers. “I’m just being stupid. I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you.” 

 

Harry climbs up onto Louis’ bunk and lays down. Louis does the same. They lay facing each other for a really long time. Louis thinks that the song they’re singing tonight,  _ Something About The Way You Look Tonight  _ by Elton John, really fits Harry at this exact moment in time. The feeling Louis has deep inside that he can’t describe, the way Harry takes Louis’ breath away, and how Louis just wants to spill his deepest darkest secrets. Then the way Louis isn’t sure he can put it into words, he’s just  _ speechless.  _

 

**_/ /_ **

 

Weeks seven and eight are easy. The performances are easy, anyway. Everything else (everything Harry-wise) is extremely difficult. He sleeps in Louis’ bed another four - no, it’s five - times, scattered about the weeks. And then they’re totally off in the morning but completely normal by the afternoon. Zayn says it’s because Louis likes Harry and Harry likes Louis, but Louis isn’t fully convinced. 

 

Tomorrow they perform  _ Only Girl  _ and  _ Chasing Cars.  _ Harry has been singing Chasing Cars nonstop for the past week, drilling the song into his (and everyone else’s) brain. Louis has always loved Chasing Cars. He fell in love with the song when it came out. Something about the way Gary Lightbody sings and all of the lines of the song are so beautifully written. Louis has always loved it. But now he’s been hearing Harry sing it and has heard the song over and over and over again, and you’d think someone would hate a song after hearing it a hundred times. But, Louis doesn’t. He thought he loved the way Gary Lightbody sang the song, but the way Harry Styles sings the song is about a hundred times better. Louis has re-fallen in love with Chasing Cars (and fallen even more in love with Harry Styles, but nobody else needs to know that). 

 

“Do you ever worry about going home?” Harry asks suddenly, beginning to prod at Louis’ mattress. Louis groans in his mind, but not out loud. Liam would probably yell at him to go to sleep. And Harry would get the message that Louis doesn’t want to talk to him, and that would severely hurt Harry, and Louis never ever wants to hurt him. Louis would listen to Harry talk for hours about  _ anything  _ as long as it means Harry doesn’t feel ignored or unwanted. 

 

“Sometimes,” Louis replies finally, rolling onto his back. Harry doesn’t answer, but his head pops up over the edge of Louis’ bed soon enough. He doesn’t have to ask, Louis just nods and gives him the okay to get onto the bed. 

 

Harry curls up against Louis’ side, resting his head in the center of Louis’ chest. “Sometimes I think it wouldn’t be too bad if we went home now. We made it this far. I miss it sometimes. Home.” 

 

“This has sort of become home to me, you know? Rehearsals, goofing off here, bickering with Liam.” 

 

“I think,” Harry says slowly, moving and burying his face in Louis’ neck. “This could be home.” 

 

“What do you mean, Haz?” 

 

“I mean… you. This. Could be home, maybe.” 

Louis hopes Harry can’t hear his heart rate pick up. If Harry can’t hear it, he can probably feel it. Harry just called Louis  _ home.  _ What is that even supposed to mean? How can a person be home? Louis has never, ever felt that before. He didn’t even consider that. A person becoming home. Home transforming from being a place with four walls and a roof to being a person, a person’s laugh and their arms and their smile - fuck, maybe Harry is home. 

 

“So, then maybe we’ll stay a little longer,” Louis says finally. “If this is home now, or whatever.” 

 

Harry nods. “Okay. Sounds good. You make this feel like home.” 

 

**_/ /_ **

 

Harry is nervous. It’s week nine, time for them to perform Chasing Cars. Harry’s been singing this song for  _ weeks  _ over and over in his head, and he’s nervous now. Right before they go onstage. They’ve performed a dozen other times, week nine is no different. 

 

“Where’s Harry?” Liam asks, looking pointedly at Louis. Why does everybody always assume Louis knows where Harry is? He does, but still. It could get quite annoying. 

 

“Off in some secluded corner freaking out.” 

 

“Well, you wanna go get him? Knock some sense into him, please?” 

 

Louis sighs, standing up. “ _ Kiss some sense into him!”  _ Niall calls as Louis leaves the room, making Louis roll his eyes. He finds Harry down the hall, on his way to the bathrooms. Louis hurries to catch up, grabbing Harry by the arm. “Harold.” he says sternly. 

 

“I don’t know if I can do it.” 

 

“Harry, this isn’t even the fucking finale. At least save a breakdown for the finale,” Louis whines. “What’s wrong, love? Why are you freaking out all of a sudden?” 

 

“We have this and one more performance. What if we get booted off tonight? What if this is it, the end of the road?” 

 

“It’s not going to be, Harry. Because we’re all going to get out onstage and give it our all. We’re going to sing this song and the votes are going to come through. We’ll make it, H. Make it this week and next week to the finale.” 

 

They make it through. 

 

Harry doesn’t cry until he’s laying in Louis’ bed. He’s just so  _ happy  _ that they made it through, the tears just come and they don’t stop, either. Even after he’s finished gushing to Louis how damn happy he is, even after Liam, Zayn and Niall all chime in with  _ oh my god go to sleep,  _ and  _ please stop crying, we get it  _ and even a  _ kiss him and shut him up.  _ Harry doesn’t hear that one, so. Louis will just beat up whoever said it a little later on. 

 

“I want to tell you something, and you have to promise me you won’t laugh or anything.” Harry 

says after he’s calmed down a bit. 

 

Louis furrows his eyebrows. “I’d never laugh at you.” 

 

“You laugh at me all the time,” Harry points out. “But this is different. Don’t freak out.”

 

Louis just nods, giving Harry the goahead. But Harry stays silent, mouth open slightly like he can’t make the words come out. Louis doesn't rush him, doesn't force him to say whatever it is he's got to say. 

 

“I’m… I… I don't know how to say it,” Harry admits, breaking eye contact. 

 

Louis puts a hand on Harry’s cheek. “Say it.” 

 

“What if I wasn't, like, into girls?” Louis is shocked. Louis is dumbfounded and his lack of response is going to make him look like a jerk— “see? I shouldn't have—” 

 

Louis cuts him off. “No, Harry. Don't say that. I don't care, Haz. I don't care. You could be gay or bi or pansexual or asexual or aromantic or  _ whatever  _ and I wouldn't care. You could tell me you had a thing for inanimate objects like on those weird shows and I wouldn't care. You're Harry, and that's all that matters.” 

 

Harry smiles gratefully at him. “Thank you.” 

 

Then Harry buries his face in Louis’ chest and drifts off to sleep. He leaves Louis to think about the fact that now he's got his opening, but might not have the balls to take the shot. 

 

/ / 

 

“Zayn,” Louis traps Zayn while he's taking a shower the next morning.

 

“You can talk, but that curtain stays closed, Tomlinson.” 

 

“Of course. Not trying to invade your privacy. Too much, anyways,” Louis grins. “I talked to Harry last night.” 

 

“He was a wreck. Is he alright?” 

 

“Just extremely, extremely happy. But I think he may have been crying because of one other thing.” Louis pauses.

 

Zayn waits for a moment, assuming Louis is going to continue. “And? What was it? I can't read your mind, Tommo.” 

 

“He told me this thing, last night, about himself. And I probably shouldn't tell you because it's private and—”

 

“He's gay.” 

 

“Wha—how did you…. How do you know?” 

 

“Oh, Louis. Harry does talk to other people besides you.” 

 

Louis is almost hurt that Zayn knew before he did. Zayn, of all people. Then again, Zayn does seem like a reliable person to tell that secret to. Louis did do the same thing at the beginning of the competition. 

 

“Okay, so he's gay,” Zayn continues. “Now what?” 

 

“I don't know… That's what I need to figure out.” 

 

/ / 

 

Jay says it's a matter of life taking its course. When he tells her about Harry, she says to wait it out and see what happens. One problem, Louis hates waiting. He doesn't want to wait any longer. He wants to take life and drive it in the direction he wants. 

 

Harry is the only person in the kitchen, everyone else outside enjoying the warm weather and sunlight. “What’re you doing?” Louis asks. 

 

Harry shrugs. “Looking for something to eat.” 

 

“Probably nothing good.” 

 

“Thank you for not taking the thing I told you weirdly,” Harry says softly, turning around to face Louis. Louis nods, taking a few steps closer to Harry, who in turn takes a few back so he's against the counter. Louis rolls his eyes and steps closer again. “Are you alright?” Harry asks warily, narrowing his eyes. 

 

“Why wouldn't I be alright?” 

 

“You seem weird.” 

 

Louis shrugs. “I’m fine. Wanna watch a movie or something?” 

 

Harry nods. 

 

_ Grown Ups  _ is on, and it's Harry's turn to pick the movie, so that's what stays on. It's not long before he's moving to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. “Tired, bub?” Louis asks, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over the both of them. 

 

Harry shakes his head. “Not tired.” 

 

Louis lets out a laugh. “Oh, no?” 

 

Harry shakes his head again. “Thanks for caring, though. You always care.” 

 

“Of course I care,” Louis whispers. “Always, kid. You know that.” 

 

Harry looks up, and they're so close. Louis is nervous. Not nervous in the waiting for the birth of his new siblings way, not nervous in the way he is before a big game, not even nervous in the way he is before he goes onstage. This is a whole new type of nervous. And Louis  _ likes  _ it. He likes the feeling. 

 

Harry's lips are getting closer and closer and all of a sudden he's sitting up straighter, practically on Louis’ lap, and now Louis can feel fingers on the back of his neck. The grip tightens and Harry pulls Louis in closer, closer and then it happens. 

 

They're kissing. Louis Tomlinson is kissing Harry Styles. Life took its course and led their lips together and Louis is so incredibly happy. There's hands in hair and hands on hips and now Harry's full on straddling Louis. Louis finally wills himself to open his mouth and kiss Harry back, kissing back like he's never ever kissed anyone before. 

 

Just as quickly as it happened, it's over. Harry turns his cheek, putting hands on Louis’ chest as if trying to halt anything further from happening. 

 

“I'm sorry,” Harry whispers. “I’m so sorry, Louis.” 

 

“Harry—” Louis tries, but Harry’s already up and gone. 

 

He sighs, turning the TV off and tossing the blanket aside, not really caring to pick it up. He gets up and heads to the back door, in hopes of finding Zayn. Liam is coming in, and immediately notices Louis seems off. “You okay?” he asks, frowning. 

 

Louis figures Liam will have to do, and follows him back in. “No, I’m not.” 

 

“What's wrong? Where's H?” 

 

“Um, upstairs. But this is about Harry, so I can't really talk to him about it.” 

 

“Did you two finally hook up? Are you dating?” Liam asks excitedly. 

 

“What? No! What makes you think that? Does it seem like we’re… dating?” 

 

“Louis, are you kidding me?  _ Everybody  _ thinks you're dating. Every single contestant has been wondering the same thing – when are they going public? Or outsiders wonder if you already are public.” 

 

“What gives it up?” Louis asks, leaning on the counter. Now he's interested. 

 

Liam rolls his eyes. “You clearly don't even realise you're doing it. It's hands on, all the time, with you two. And you're the only person Harry allows to touch his hair. And he's  _ always  _ wearing your clothes, and you guys share that beanie sometimes. You're the only one who can calm him down when he cries, you're the only one who can make him laugh to the point of tears. You've been it for him since day one here, Lou. Have you not seen it? Are you that blind?” 

 

“No, I mean… I've seen… some things. But I just assumed that was what friends do? We were being friendly.” 

 

“God, you're an idiot.” 

 

“I’m gay, you know,” Louis blurts. Liam quirks an eyebrow as if to say  _ and? your point is?  _ Louis lets out a breath. Relief, possibly. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you knew.” 

 

“Alright. Fine. Thank you for telling me, I guess. It doesn't matter to me. Doesn't change anything. Now, Harry. What happened?” 

 

Louis buries his face in his hands. “We kissed. Harry kissed me. And then he ran away.”

 

Liam hums thoughtfully, nodding. “Well, this week is the finale. And, win or lose, you’re going to have to figure something out.” 

 

“We’re going to win, first and foremost. Let’s get that out of the way. We’re  _ going  _ to win. There’s no ‘if we win’ bullshit. We’re winning.” 

 

“It’s good you think that. But it’s certainly not set in stone. If we win, if we lose, you’re going to have to figure something out with Harry.” 

 

/ / 

 

Just as quickly as life brought them together, it seems that life’s course is keeping Louis and Harry as far away from each other. Jay says it’s life taking its course, and Louis has to let things play out. But Harry is full on  _ avoiding  _ Louis, which is pretty difficult given constant meetings and rehearsals and whatnot. Props to the kid, really. Except it’s pissing Louis off. Part of Louis applauds Harry, the other part wants to strangle him for making Louis suffer like this. 

 

“You know no matter what happens, I’m proud of you guys, yeah?” Simon studies the five boys intently. “You’ve gotten further than anyone thought you would. You’ve certainly showed everyone what you’re made of. Do it one more time tonight.” 

 

Over the past ten weeks, the boys have all created pre-show rituals. Zayn sits by himself and listens to music, claiming it gets him ‘into the zone’. Louis thinks he might be an idiot, but hey, everybody has what works for them. Niall eats and socializes with everyone backstage, trying to pretend he isn’t about to go sing onstage. Liam spends time with his family, he says that’s what calms him down. Louis and Harry have been spending time before shows together. Their recent conversations have included moving in together. Louis is positive Anne won’t let her baby, sixteen year old Harry, her only son, move in with Louis, the older kid with a slightly bad school rep. But Harry is positive it would be fine. Louis is letting him have that. 

 

This week, however, the most important night of their lives, Harry isn’t around. Harry goes MIA, and Louis is left alone. His mum and sisters are there, but it’s not the same. Harry rejoins the group just before their performance of  _ Torn.  _

 

They go out and sing their hearts out. Like always. Louis leaves every bit of himself up on that stage and he knows the other four boys around him are doing the same thing. Even if they don’t win, because deep down Louis knows that’s a very real possibility, Louis is grateful for everything he’s gotten. It’s such a corny thing to say, but he’s glad life took this course. His mother’s stupid saying wasn’t so stupid in this sense. The course led him to four of the best friends he could have asked for (even if he and Liam don’t get along so well all the time. They’re still friends. They classify as friends as far as Louis is concerned) and Louis wouldn’t trade it for the world. All of the tears and the sweat and fear and anxiety have all been packed up and built up to contribute to tonight, and tonight will contribute to what happens after. 

 

As soon as they’re offstage after giving what Louis is sure is their best performance so far, Harry’s gone again. “He okay?” Zayn asks as they head back to their dressing room. 

“I don’t know…” Louis says warily. “I’m going to go find out, though.” 

 

“Isn’t he mad at you?” 

 

“I’ve got no fucking clue, he hasn’t spoken with me in a week. I don’t care if he’s mad at me, I’m going to make sure he’s okay.” 

 

Zayn knows why Louis is so keen on checking in on Harry. Louis knows Zayn knows. Louis cares about him, cares so deeply for Harry he didn’t think it was possible. Louis doesn’t search for very long. He finds Harry in the bathroom, back pressed against the far wall. How has nobody found him here yet? “Shit, Haz,” Louis curses, going immediately to wrap a sobbing boy in his arms. 

 

“Louis, Louis,” Harry protests, trying to shove Louis away. But Louis holds on. “Please let go.” 

 

“No,” Louis whispers, pulling Harry into his lap. “I’m not letting you go.” 

 

Harry yells at him then,  _ let me go, let me go  _ and  _ leave me alone, please.  _ But eventually it fades to a  _ don’t let me go. Louis, don’t let me go.  _ as he finally surrenders to Louis’ hold. “I’m never gonna let you go,” Louis promises, kissing Harry’s head. “I got you, Hazza. Don’t worry. Never letting go.” 

 

Sobs finally subside. Harry sits up. “We’ve got to go out there soon,” he sniffles, wiping his cheeks. “I look like a wreck.” 

 

“Why were you crying?” Louis asks, watching Harry stand up. “You have to tell me. Otherwise we won’t go out there.” 

 

Harry sighs. “Because I’m mad. And upset. And scared.” 

 

“Why, why, and why?” 

 

“I’m mad at myself. And I’m upset because of what happened, and I’m upset because we might not win, and I’m scared because I have no idea what’s going to happen next.” 

 

“Don't be mad at yourself, don't be upset over what happened. I've been stupid too. It's all stupid and we can't talk about it now because our lives are about to change forever. And I know that's scary. I know how scary it is not knowing what's coming. Whatever happens on that stage in the next ten minutes, whether we win or lose, know that nothing will change. Nothing will change between you and I, or between any of the other guys. I’ll still love you and Liam and Ni and Zayn. We’ll still be One Direction. That is not going to change.” 

 

“I don't want to lose you,” Harry says brokenly. 

 

Fuck, Louis is gone. Louis is a goner. “I know. You're not. I’m right here.” 

 

With the promise of winning hanging over them, the boys head out onstage. 

 

And they lose. 

 

Harry holds himself together until they're offstage. “You promised we’d win!” he yells at Louis, tears already falling down his cheeks. 

 

“I promised everything would stay the same,” Louis corrects. 

 

Harry lets out a sob. “I don't want it to be over.” 

 

“It's not over. I promise you, it's not over. That I'm promising, Harry. It's not over. One Direction is not over.”  _ We are not over.  _ Louis pulls Harry in for a hug, letting the younger boy bury his face. 

 

“Can we still move in together?” Harry asks. Louis can feel Harry’s hot tears falling down his neck. 

 

He lets out a tear-filled laugh, nodding. “We’ll still move in together.” 

 

/ / 

 

Louis is at Harry’s home in Holmes Chapel. It's four days post-loss, and things are slowly returning to normal. The boys are all meeting with Simon on Saturday. He wants to see them for something Louis doesn't quite understand. 

 

Anne is the one who opens the door, embracing Louis immediately. “Nice to see you again, love. Harry's in the kitchen.” 

 

She leads him through the house to the kitchen, where harry’s standing in front of the oven. 

 

“Jeez, kid, I knew losing the show was tough, but are you really gonna bake yourself to death in the oven?” Louis asks jokingly. 

 

Harry gasps, whipping around to face the source of the voice. “You're here!” he exclaims, flinging himself into Louis’ arms. His legs go around Louis’ waist and his arms around Louis’ neck and it feels good, feels right. 

 

“I'm here, H,” Louis grins. Harry hops down a few seconds later. “You know, it's only been like four days. And there's this thing called a phone, where we can call, and text. We could even Skype!” 

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “I know, I know. I've been busy. It's weird. Being home.” 

 

“I know. I felt the same way.”

 

“Sorry my mum opened the door. I would've done it, but I didn't even hear it ring.” 

 

“I figured. What’re you making?” 

 

“A cake. Did she say anything… weird to you?” 

 

Louis shakes his head. “Nope.” 

 

“I'm saving the embarrassing stories for later,” Anne sings, coming into the kitchen and beginning to help clean things up. “Can I get you anything, Louis?” 

 

“I am good, thank you. Mhm, Haz, I found this great flat…” he trails off when Harry looks at him with wide eyes. Harry hasn't told Anne. Harry hasn't even brought up to his mother that they’d like a flat together. 

 

Harry looks to his mother, who seems to be paying little attention. He shoots Louis an  _ I'm literally going to strangle you later  _ glance. Louis holds his hands up in mock-surrender. 

 

/ / 

 

“I'm glad you came to visit,” Harry says, looking down at Louis. 

 

He's on the floor, because Anne figures same room is enough, even though they're not dating. They should be dating, though, Louis thinks. As soon as a bedroom door down the hall clicks shut, Harry scoots and pats the bed next to him. “Come up here,” he whispers, throwing the duvet back so Louis can get under too. 

 

Louis obeys immediately. 

 

“The night of the finale, you said we couldn't talk about why I was mad and sad,” Harry says slowly, licking his lips. “And we never did. Can we do it now?”

 

Fuck, Harry wants to talk about the kiss. He's going to want to talk about the kiss and the endless flirting that went on over the course of The X Factor. Louis’ main concern is the kiss, because that's a very big thing. Louis nods though, exhaling heavily. “I kissed you. And I shouldn't have. Because you're not even into boys—”

 

“I am.” Louis blurts. “I am into boys, I've known since I was younger than you, and I should've told you. I'm sorry.” 

 

Harry opens his mouth, closes it. Open, closed. “Okay. I mean, fine.” 

 

“Yeah.” Louis whispers. 

 

“Is that why you kissed me back?” Harry asks softly. 

 

“I kissed you back because of that, and a million more reasons.” 

 

Harry inhales, exhales, inhales. “Tell me them,” he says in the next exhale. 

 

“I kissed you back because of the way you looked at me in the bathroom the day we met. I kissed you back because of the way you wouldn't leave my side the first few days after we were made a band. I kissed you because I liked the way you’d always be singing, all the time, no matter what we were doing. I could hear you doing Beyoncé in the shower and the Backstreet Boys while you were swimming. I kissed you back for the way you always get ice cream on your nose when you eat it, even though I don't quite understand how that's possible. I kissed you back for the way you look when you're wearing my clothes, and the way when you wake up in the morning, the way your voice sounds. I kissed you back for a million reasons, Harry. Yes, one of them being I like boys. But I like one boy in particular.” 

 

Louis pokes Harry’s nose, hoping he gets the message that Harry is this boy. If Harry were to not get this message, he’d have to be blind. Blind and deaf and completely oblivious. “What do you like about him?” 

 

“Well, there's all the things I just mentioned…” Louis says slowly, studying Harry’s face carefully. “Then there's his eyes, they're to die for.” he traces gentle fingertips over Harry’s face, and over his eyelids when Harry's eyes slip shut. 

 

“What else?” Harry asks, opening his eyes again. 

 

“The way he tastes, and the way he smells. His laugh, and his incredibly curly hair. I love what a crazy, complicated place his mind is. He's like this one giant puzzle that I’d love to try to figure out.” 

 

Harry smiles. “Sounds like quite the catch.” 

 

“Oh, he could be. If only I could catch him.” 

 

“I think you've already got him,” Harry whispers. 

 

Louis is looking at Harry in this moment, and he never wants to leave. Louis would be perfectly content never seeing another moment. As long as Harry is the last thing Louis lays eyes on, he's good. If life decided to stop its course right here, Louis would be fine. Harry's eyes are bright, and twinkly, like every cliche Louis has ever heard. There's stars in Harry’s eyes, and they've immediately passed all of the stars in the sky to become Louis’ favourites. Louis is so lost in these stars in Harry's eyes that he doesn't realize their lips moving together until he feels softness and warmth on his own. 

 

It feels like they're on top of the world. Louis is on top of the world. He's the fucking king of it. God, is he glad life took this course. He wouldn't trade it for anything else. 

 

“I know I'm back now,” Harry says, drawing away slowly. “And I've been here for a few days. It's supposed to be home. But it didn't fully feel like home until you showed up today. Because you still feel like home.” 

 

Louis kisses him again, hoping it will convey the fact that he feels the same way. 

 

/ / 

 

In the morning, Louis wakes up long before Harry does and figures it can't hurt to go downstairs. Anne is in the kitchen making a cup of coffee, and smiles at Louis when he comes in. “Morning,” she says cheerily. 

 

“Morning,” Louis says back, running a hand through his hair. 

 

“Tired much? Boy already wearing you out?” 

 

Louis lets out a laugh. “Always does. Wouldn't have it any other way.”

 

“He hasn't shut up about you. Not since the start of this whole competition,” Anne stares at Louis in disbelief. “It's absolutely insane. Even after he came home, he still talked about you.” 

 

So, even when they didn't know where they stood relationship-wise, even when Louis thought Harry hated him, Harry was still talking about Louis. God, those fucking butterflies and gymnasts are back. “Really?” he asks. 

 

“Oh, God, yes. Talks about you to anyone who will listen.” 

 

Louis hums, nodding. “He's… He's a good kid. Bound to be someone special.” 

 

Anne smiles, and it looks like she might cry. If the right words are said, she probably will. “Yeah? You think so?” 

 

“Without a doubt,” Louis smiles back at her. “Listen, we had this conversation a while back, Harry and I. About him maybe moving in with me? Like, in our own flat. He was supposed to talk to you, but I guess he never did…” 

 

Anne shakes her head. “He did not, no. But I heard you say something about it yesterday,” oh, so she heard what Louis said in the kitchen. “And I… you have to promise me something.” 

 

“Anything. Absolutely anything.” 

 

“You've got to take care of him. That's my baby boy. I don't know what this world’s gonna bring on for him, but you've got to take care of him.” 

 

“I will. You have my word.” 

 

“And you have to let me visit sometimes.” she adds, sniffling a bit. 

 

“Of course.” 

 

When she hugs him, Louis can't say he's surprised. The embrace is warm and long but he doesn't mind. He just can't believe she said okay. She willingly gave up her 16 year old son. Does she know they're a thing? They are a thing, aren't they? As far as Louis and the butterflies and gymnasts (and apparently everyone else on X Factor) are concerned, they're a thing. Anne must know. That's what mothers do, isn't it? They… know. 

 

“Don't you dare hurt him, Louis Tomlinson.” she murmurs when they pull apart. Yeah, she definitely knows. 

 

“I wouldn't dream of it. I've got him.” 

 

“Got who?” Harry's sleepy voice fills the kitchen at that moment. “What’re you guys doing?” 

 

“Just talking, Haz. Good morning,” Louis smiles at him. 

 

Harry smiles weakly back, eyes still droopy. 

 

“You should've stayed in bed longer, honey,” Anne insists. “You're still tired.” 

 

Harry shakes his head. “No, I’m good. I’ll take a nap on Louis later if I have to.” 

 

Louis rolls his eyes. “I bet you will. Hey, so, I've gotta show you that place I found.” 

 

“Louis, my mum doesn't—”

 

“Of course she does, love,” Louis rolls his eyes again. “What else do we have to talk about besides you?” 

 

Harry leans into Louis, burying his face bashfully in the boy’s neck. He hums, “Flat. Okay.” 

 

/ / 

 

Louis has seen Harry in quite a few ways since they met. Louis has seen Harry laugh, seen him angry, seen him completely apathetic. Louis has seen Harry come completely undone in a mess of tears. All of them were beautiful, every last form. 

 

But, the way Louis is seeing Harry now might be the most breathtaking. Louis has seen Harry undone in a lot of ways, but by far his favourite is having Harry come undone on the mattress. He's absolutely  _ beautiful.  _ Anne and Robin went out for dinner and a movie together, leaving Louis and Harry with the house. Louis didn't have any intentions of fucking Harry before they got their place together, but things happen and one thing leads to another and Harry is absolutely irresistible. 

 

Louis is drinking in his appearance. He wishes he could take a picture. He wishes Harry could see himself, see how beautiful he looks. Louis wants to show everyone how beautiful his boy is when he's coming undone. But, Louis also wants it to remain their thing. Louis won't even tell a soul about how beautiful Harry looks coming undone. How stunning he is when Louis is taking him apart piece by piece. Because it's just that. For Louis. Harry is like this because of Louis,  _ for _ Louis, and that is everything. 

 

Harry's pink cheeks and red lips are the perfect contrast to the white pillows beneath his head, just like his warm body is the perfect contrast to the cold sheets tangled beneath their limbs. He’s loud, loud, loud, which makes Louis grateful they're the only ones home. He's not sure if it's because it's Harry’s first time (Louis gets to take Harry’s virginity, which is exciting and scary at the same time) or if Harry will always be this way even after they've had sex a thousand times. Louis hopes sex is like this all the time. He wants Harry’s moans and pleas to be the soundtrack to his entire existence. Louis is thriving off of this, he's living and breathing off of Harry in this state. 

 

“Are you going to do something?” Harry asks suddenly, digging his heels into Louis’ ass. “Fuck me, c’mon.” 

 

“I  _ am  _ fucking you, Harold.” 

 

“You know what I mean, Lewis.” 

 

Louis does know what Harry means. Louis knows what he means, and also knows what he needs. Louis is also prepared to give him both. Give him the passion and the love and the heat and the pleasure and the pain and everything in between. Everything that sex could be, Louis wants to give it to Harry, wants to have it with Harry. 

 

When it's over, Louis drags Harry to the bathroom for a shower to clean off before heading back to the room. “Sheets, sheets have to be changed,” Harry says sleepily, careful not to sit on the bed. “Can you do it?” 

 

Louis chuckles, kissing Harry’s forehead. “Yeah, I can do it.” 

 

“Mum doesn't need to deal with the cum-pocalypse, Lou.” Harry adds. 

 

Cum-pocalypse. Harry did not seriously just say that. He did, and Louis just tacks it onto the already-too-long list of reasons he loves Harry. 

 

After the sheets are changed, Louis and Harry both crawl into bed. Harry dozes off after just a little while, but Louis stays awake for a long time after. His mind is running a million miles a minute and his heart's still beating like butterflies trapped in a cage and he can't stop thinking. 

 

When he finally falls asleep, it's with secure arms around Harry's waist, Harry's face buried in Louis’ neck. 

 

Louis wakes up with an arm slung over a body and sunlight pouring through the curtains and dancing across the room. He's got a face full of curls that smell like lavender and Louis doesn't even mind that at all. Everything is warm, Harry is warm and the sheets are warm and Louis never wants to leave. Louis can feel Harry breathing, in, out, with the occasional snuffle (the cutest sound Louis has ever heard in his entire life). He’ll wake up soon, Louis can tell. 

 

A few minutes later, Harry makes another absolutely adorable noise and rolls over so he can tuck his face into Louis’ neck. Louis presses a kiss to Harry’s hair, while Harry moves and tangles their legs together beneath the seats. 

 

“Morning,” Harry murmurs, tightening his grip around Louis’ waist. “How’s it going?” 

 

“Going great,” Louis chuckles, rubbing Harry’s back. “Sore anywhere, love?” 

 

Harry shakes his head. “Could go for a round two.” 

 

Louis laughs again. “I don’t think so, baby. But once we’ve got our own place, we can have all the rounds we want.” 

 

“Sounds very appealing. I can’t wait.” 

 

Downstairs, the way Anne looks at both Harry and Louis, she knows. She knows what they did. It might be the look on Harry’s face, it might be his undeniable happiness. Maybe she saw the sheets in the dryer. Either way, she definitely knows. She winks at Louis when they both come into the kitchen, eyes flitting between the pair. 

 

“Morning,” Harry says to her before Louis can. “What time did you get home last night?” 

 

“Around nine. You were both asleep when we got home. Brought some dessert from the restaurant, thought maybe you’d be interested in it.” 

 

Harry opens the fridge and sees the takeout container, taking it out excitedly. He opens it and  _ ooh’s  _ at the sight of what’s in the box. “Chocolate cake. My favourite. This will make wonderful breakfast.” 

 

“Harry, that’s not breakfast.” Louis and Anne both protest. “I was going to make omelets. You can’t eat cake for breakfast.” 

 

Harry frowns. “But it looks so good. This seems so delicious. Look at it, Lou,” he shoves the cake in Louis’ face. “Tell me you don’t want to share this with me.” 

 

“I do, and I will. Except tonight, after dinner,” Louis takes the container from Harry’s hands and closes it before putting it back in the fridge. 

 

“Today I wanna take you around Holmes Chapel,” Harry says, sitting down at the island. “If you want to, I mean.” 

 

Louis smiles. “Of course I want to.” 

 

“That alright, mum?” Harry looks over at his mother at the stove. “If we walk around for a bit today?” 

 

Anne shrugs. “I don’t see why not, love.” 

 

“Great. Then it’s settled. I wanna show you places.” 

 

/ / 

 

“I still can’t drive,” Harry frowns, grabbing Louis’ hand as they cut across the grass. “It’s so annoying. You can drive, can’t you?” 

 

“I can, yes. Legally, not yet. But soon.” 

 

“Louis?” Harry asks. Louis hums. “Will you teach me how to drive?” 

 

Louis laughs softly. “Yes, I will teach you how to drive one day.” 

 

“Wanna hear a fun story?” Harry grins, dropping Louis’ hand to run down by the little creek. “I lined this whole place with candles. I went totally out of my way with the whole romance thing for this girl, and I went to her house, but she couldn’t come. She says she couldn’t come, but I know that she just didn’t want to. So you know what I did?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I got totally  _ wasted.”  _ Harry grins even wider, eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “I got wasted and sad over the fact that this girl didn’t want to come out and see what I did, and kiss me. Nobody ever wanted to kiss the nerdy, gay, curly haired kid.” 

 

“But you know who does want to kiss the nerdy, gay, curly haired kid?” Louis asks softly, stepping closer to Harry. “Me. I do, and that’s all that matters.” 

 

“I was gonna kiss her right here,” Harry leans against a tall, thick tree. “Have her lean right like this, and make out for a long time.” 

 

“Well, that doesn’t seem like a bad idea to me. Seems like the perfect date.” 

 

So, that’s what they do. They kiss until their lips are numb, kiss until they’re used to the feeling of kissing. Well, as used to it as they can get. They’ll probably never get used to that. The feeling of Harry’s lips on his own make Louis’ heart beat fast again, make his stomach do flips. Louis will never, ever get used to that. No matter how long Louis kisses him for, no matter how many times they kiss. Harry’s lips will always feel like something new and exciting and inviting and just a bit reckless, a bit dangerous. 

 

“I love you,” Louis whispers suddenly. “I have loved you since the minute I laid eyes on you. Loved you since the first time you put your head on my shoulder. Loved you since the first time you slept in my bed, since the first time we kissed, and fell even more in love last night. I want to love you for a long time, Harry Styles.” 

 

The look in Harry’s eyes makes Louis consider what he said damaging, maybe. Harry’s young. He’s only ever had sex one time. What teenage kid doesn’t want to go out and get laid as much as possible? How could he even think about love? But then Harry breaks out into a grin. “I love you too,” he whispers back. 

 

And, it feels like everything is going to be alright. All of the pieces have somehow fallen into place. And it feels great. 

 

/ / 

 

It gets hard. And sometimes it isn't alright. They spend more time apart than together sometimes, but they work through it. Louis takes whatever he can in order to protect Harry. Louis makes sure Harry gets the simplest of cover ups. Louis takes the baby. Louis takes the womanizer, the ‘dead-beat dad’. He ruins his December, which used to be a month of happiness and snow and celebrating, so Harry can have a good one. They're apart for a long time that month, but the reunion makes it that much better. 

 

They promised each other that they would make it to the end. That there has to be some kind of silver lining, light at the end of the tunnel type of shit when everything is said and done. It's coming soon, if everything plays out right. If life takes the course everyone wants it to take. Jay is confident it will. Louis has to put trust in that. 

 

They’ll be free to do what they want when they want with who they want — which is each other. They both have to hang in there long enough for it. Let life take its course. They've had decent luck with life taking its own course in the past. That is, after all, how they met each other. 


End file.
